


Birds of a Feather

by cassiem



Category: Block B
Genre: M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6965764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiem/pseuds/cassiem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taeil walks in on Jihoon in the shower, and decides to give him a hand...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sick nearly to the point of delirium so of course my brain said ‘yes! 3:40 am is a great time for writing smut!’
> 
> so you get this which is rough as hell and might not make sense but yoooooo I hope you enjoy anyway

It doesn’t take much for Jihoon to get hard at the thought of Taeil, not really. Especially when Taeil’s been stealing glances at him when he thinks Jihoon isn’t looking, although Jihoon isn’t sure _why_ – and especially when Jihoon’s been staring at Taeil’s damn lips, which, thanks to the makeup coordis, glistened a bright red all fucking day. So the moment he gets home from their schedule he’s itching for a shower, and not just because his makeup has coagulated and is sticking to his face in the most unpleasant of ways.

He turns the hot taps onto full and steps under the spray, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, revelling in the feeling of the heat hitting his chest and warming him from the outside in. All it takes is the thought of Taeil’s sinful lips wrapped around Jihoon’s cock – the _noises_ he would make – and Jihoon is hard as a rock and stroking himself with no abandon, biting his lip to stop from moaning. Because, fuck, the fact that this is in the dorm shower makes this all the more risqué, and the fact that Taeil’s somewhere in the vicinity – well, soon he has to clap his other hand over his mouth because biting his lip just isn’t doing it anymore. So of course the door opens, then, when he’s fucking his hand vigorously and moaning _Taeil hyung_ under his breath, _of course._

Jihoon’s first reaction is to turn his back and close his eyes. “Get the fuck out,” he growls, not really caring _who_ it is, even though it’s probably Kyung. “How many fucking times have I told you?”

It’s the silence that clues him in to the fact that it’s probably not Kyung, because when has Park Kyung ever been silent in his life? Jaehyo’s out, so it wouldn’t be him, which means – he dares a glance over his shoulder and his heart drops into his stomach. Taeil’s standing there, wearing nothing but his underwear and looking paler than Jihoon has ever seen him. Which meant he probably overheard.

“Get the _fuck_ out,” Jihoon whines, leaning his forehead on the tiles and hastily realising he’s still got his hand wrapped around his cock. “Please.”

All he gets is silence in response, and he wishes more than anything his dick would get the memo and settle down so he could turn around and physically bundle Taeil out (although, on second thought, trying to move Taeil when he didn’t want to be moved was like trying to move a boulder) – but he’s still helplessly hard and shivering against the tiles, despite the heat of the water. He’s never felt this mortified in his _life_ , not ever, and he wonders if the others will ever let him forget this. Surely Taeil’s going to turn around and leave and text the others, and they’ll all have a good laugh at his expense – he can’t do anything else, he _can’t_ , because as much as Jihoon has wanted Taeil for so damn long he’s petrified of the status quo changing. He’s just about to turn around and yell at Taeil, dick be damned, when the shower door slams open and Taeil’s arms slide around his waist.

“Hyung?” Jihoon pleads, but it trails off at the end, a question mark floating between them. He can’t really form any other words except _Taeil_ and _fuck_ and _you’re so warm_ and _why are you doing this_ and _I want you_ but none of those are really appropriate to vocalise.

“Jihoonie,” is all Taeil says in response, and he presses a soft kiss to the plane of Jihoon’s shoulderblade. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jihoon’s retort ( _what the fuck are_ you _doing?!_ complete with hysterical tone of voice because, really, the most absurd thing about this situation is that Taeil still has his underwear on and he’s getting wet, and that’s the only thing Jihoon’s short-circuiting brain can focus on right now) dies on his lips at the kiss, chaste as it is. In fact, he has to press his lips together to stop from moaning, because he’s utterly confused but more turned on than he’s ever been in his _life_.

Taeil’s hands drift downward, brushing over the sides of Jihoon’s hips, his nails skimming so lightly that it sends a chill down Jihoon’s spine in the best of ways. Again, he opens his mouth to say something – _shouldn’t we talk this through?_ or _do you know what you’re doing?_ – when Taeil’s hand curls around his cock and he forgets his own damn name.

“Hyung,” he moans into the tiles weakly. “Please…”

He’s not even sure what he’s asking for, not really. But Taeil seems to know, and he starts stroking, hesitant at first but growing more sure of himself, pressing Jihoon into the tiles firmly as he twists his wrist. “Do you have any idea how fucking good you looked today?” he breathes into Jihoon’s skin, although it seems more of an postscript to himself rather than any real effort at dirty talk. “So fucking good, Jihoon, _fuck_.”

Abstractly, Jihoon wonders if perhaps that this wasn’t one-sided after all, that perhaps Taeil had really wanted Jihoon as much as Jihoon had wanted him. But then Taeil plants his other hand on Jihoon’s hip to whirl him around, to lean up and kiss him, and Jihoon can only think _oh, oh_. He’d imagined their first kiss in so many different ways, none quite as inventive as this, but it’s not like it matters because Taeil’s mouth is hot and wet and exactly what he needs, and when his tongue touches Jihoon’s he feels his knees actually wobble. Throughout it all Taeil keeps jerking him off, his hand speeding up as he leans into Jihoon, pressing biting kisses all the way down Jihoon’s jaw, down his neck and onto his collarbone.

“Taeil hyung,” Jihoon moans, his hand falling onto Taeil’s hip, hooking his fingers under the waistband of Taeil’s now sopping-wet boxers and tugging them down. “Fuck, yes, faster, I’m close.”

Taeil chuckles and stoops to kiss his way down to Jihoon’s nipples, taking one of them in his mouth and looking up at Jihoon as he does so, his eyes wide and gaze innocent. The contrast of this, of how Taeil knows _exactly_ what he’s doing to Jihoon, looking like that, and how his hand his stroking Jihoon steadily towards orgasm – well, Jihoon has to plant one hand on the wall and scrabble for purchase, his toes curling. He’s convinced, now, that Taeil had known exactly what he was doing to Jihoon every time he’d looked over at him and winked. It’s all compounded by the fact that –

“Hyung,” he cries out as Taeil bites down on his nipple gently. “I’m gonna come – Taeil hyung, _please_.”

Taeil kisses him as he comes, swallowing the moans he tries to make, his hand not faltering in its rhythm as Jihoon spills all over his fist, shuddering and trembling throughout. As he comes down from it, Taeil pulls back and licks his lips, looking at Jihoon appreciatively, and Jihoon still can’t quite realise how the fuck this had happened in the first place.

“What the fuck was that?” he breathes, touching Taeil’s face gently, wonderingly.

Taeil shrugs. “Something I’ve been wanting to try for a while.” He makes it sound so nonchalant, but Jihoon can tell it’s not just that – especially by the way he’s licking his lips, and _especially_ by the way he’s grinding his hips into Jihoon, his cock heavy and hard against Jihoon’s thigh.

“Yeah?” Jihoon replies, whirling Taeil around with a thump so their positions are reversed, still slightly amazed that this is happening and that he’s able to stand up after all of that. “I’ve got a few things I want to try, too…”

“Yes please,” Taeil breathes, sliding his hand into Jihoon’s hair and tugging him in for a kiss that has the both of them gasping and clinging onto each other desperately.

 _Honestly_ , Jihoon thinks as he trails his hand down over Taeil’s stomach, daring to venture lower, amazed that he can. _Who the fuck knew?_


End file.
